Allegiance
by Lacadiva
Summary: After Mulder and Scully are wounded in a bloody ambush, Scully awakens to a strange world where the Day has come and gone and she must make a choice between Mulder and duty.
1. Chapter 1

ALLEGIANCE

by

Lacadiva

Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the television series, The X-Files are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting, and Ten Thirteen Productions, and have been used without permission.

Summary: After Mulder and Scully are wounded in a bloody ambush, Scully awakens to find herself in a world

where The Day has come and gone, and a choice must be made between duty and Mulder.

Note: I wrote this story several years ago and archived it at Gossamer. Recently unearthed it and thought I'd put it up at . Don't know if people read X-Files stories much anymore, but I cut my teeth as a fanfic writer on this story and a couple other XF stories. On with the show.

Chapter One

_"Do not be yoked together with unbelievers. For what do righteousness and wickedness have in common?"_

_-2 Corinthians 6:14_

3rd and Western Avenue

Los Angeles, California

9:47 pm

She should have known better, should have known not to trust, that the wicked are almost always wicked. It was not supposed to happen this way. Gunfire left a loud ringing in her ears that would not allow her to hear anything else. She reached up and touched her forehead, over her left eye. Her finger came away wet with blood. Nausea, dizziness and pain quickly overcame her. Then panic.

_Where's Mulder? Oh God, he's down._

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And then she awoke. Bright light assaulted her eyes and she quickly shut them tight again. Pain slowly crept into

her consciousness.

A voice, deep, curt, professional. No doubt a doctor. That's it, she thought. Something happened. An accident?

Shooting?

"Can you hear me?"

"Yes," she said. Her throat was dry and scratchy. She moved to sit up, but dizziness sent her back down on the

examining table. "What happened to me?"

"You were ambushed. A bullet grazed your temple. It wasn't so much the bullet as the fall. You're very lucky."

Lucky? Ambush. Bullet. Her eyes popped open. She remembered only scattered images, brief inner pictures

without sound or true definition. She stared at the face of the man in white standing over her. She tried to sit up

again, and he reached out. Warm hands supported her back and neck as she was gently pulled into a sitting position. And then it hit her.

_Mulder…where was Mulder?_

"My partner!"

"Your partner?"

"The man I was with, where is he?"

The doctor gestured with his head to a table in a corner. On it lay a body covered by a dingy white sheet. Blood had seeped through it.

"I'm afraid he didn't make it."

"No-"

"He took a shot directly through the heart."

"Mulder, no."

"Mulder?"

The doctor moved to the covered corpse and pulled back the sheet. A beautiful face lay frozen on the table, but it

was not Mulder's.

She saw a uniform hanging on the door, blood staining the front of the fascist black tunic with sky blue and gold

piping. Medals. Shiny gold buttons. Obviously middle echelon. Black pants. Black shiny boots. This was her

uniform. When did this become her uniform?

It made no sense at all. And yet, it made all the sense in the world. The room began to tilt, and everything in it

seemed to be moving.

"Perhaps you should lie back -"

"No!" She pushed him away when he reached for her. She slid off the table, holding the sheet around her. Her legs wobbled under her, but she dredged up the control she needed. She walked slowly around the small room, looking at and analyzing everything.

"What is this place? I recognize it, but somehow, it's not right. I know you, but I don't know you."

"You're in the infirmary. I'm Doctor -"

"Blevins. You're Blevins." Eyes wide, she began to tremble. "But you're-you're not-. Something's not

right."

"It's not uncommon for things to seem somewhat scrambled after head trauma. You need rest, lots of it. Perhaps a good night's sleep will provide some clarity."

She moved to the uniform and ran a hand over the rough woolen material.

"How long was I out?"

"A few hours. Perhaps your injury is more severe than my earlier diagnosis, Sub-commander Scully. I'm going to

order a battery of tests -"

She whirled around, back against the wall to support her.

"What did you say?"

"Tests."

"You called me Sub-commander Scully. You mean Agent Scully, don't you?"

More memories, different memories, flooded her mind. Trench coats, Sig Sauers, rental cars, dingy motel rooms.

Serial killers. Mysterious disappearances. Mutants. Conspiracies. Experiments. Tests. Abductions.

Abduction.

It felt as if the floor had been pulled out from under her and she was simply falling.

Doctor Blevins came to her side quickly and helped Scully back to the table.

"No! I don't want to lie down. I'm fine, Mul- I'm fine. I need to get back to work. There's a lot I don't remember. I need to remember who I am."

"I want it on record that I am in protest of your leaving the infirmary."

"Noted, doctor."

Scully moved away from him and immodestly dropped her sheet. She reached for the uniform and quickly put it on. It felt familiar against her body, yet foreign at the same time.

"May I suggest," the Doctor said as she headed for the door, "that you take a little time to speak with the base counselor on duty? You've been under a tremendous amount of stress with this current campaign. You've lost friends and you almost lost your own life. Perhaps it would be good to talk it over with an objective individual."

"I'll consider it."

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She walked the military camp, not knowing where she was going but knowing her destination was not far away. Other soldiers of lesser rank stopped to salute her. She instantly saluted back, not knowing why she knew what to do. The muddy camp, protected by electrical fences and barbed wire, teeming with soldiers with leashed guard dogs and jeeps, seemed like home, and yet there was the feeling that she had stepped off the elevator onto a floor that only barely resembled her own.

A man stepped in front of her, blotting out the sun. He was huge, at least six feet seven inches, or taller. His face

looked as if it were chiseled stone. His mouth twisted in an attempted smile, but it still seemed malevolent. Scully felt her legs tremble as she looked into his eyes. She had no name for him, but she had a memory of standing, shivering on a freezing bridge in the middle of the night.

She remembered his massive hands holding her by the throat, his intention to kill her. She knew he was not

human. He was one of them. One of the Colonizers. An alien. She had no name for him but Bounty Hunter.

Her hand shook as she reached for her gun. She stopped, waiting for his attack. But he simply walked by and

nodded.

"Sub-Commander Scully," he said as he passed.

Scully watched him walk away. It was suddenly quite obvious that they were on the same side. They wore the

same uniform. He knew her by name. This was as it should be. But she could not dismiss the fear. This was

not her world, she was convinced. Yet here she was.

She found her office and entered, feeling neither safe nor insecure.

She turned on the desk lamp. Things were neat, orderly, organized. She opened her top desk drawer not knowing

what she'd find, but feeling relieved when she found her gold crucifix lying among the paper clips.

"Have I gone mad?" she asked herself.

"Beg pardon, Sub-commander?"

Scully turned to find a very familiar face. She smiled, then the smile turned to a look of confusion as she realized that at some point in her life - whether this life or another, she could not say - she had seen this man die. She saw him take the bullet, saw him hit the floor, stood over him, watched his blood seep between her fingers as she placed pressure against the wound, looked into his eyes as the moment of death occurred. Yet here he was, his bright red hair cut short in a military buzz, his uniform spotless and crisp, a shy, boyish grin on his face.

"May I say," he began, stepping closer to her desk, "that I am pleased you are alive, Sub-Commander Scully. Your

demise would have been a blow to the Project, and a victory to the Resistance we could not afford."

"Thank you," she said weakly.

He moved to her side and pulled her chair out for her. She sat, thankfully. At least the room did not spin quite so

much when she was sitting down.

"I hear you've been nominated for commendation. I am proud to serve as your assistant."

"My assistant?"

"Yes. Is there something I can do for you?"

"How long have you been my assistant?"

"Two years, seven and a half months."

"How has it been?"

"Most rewarding, Sub-Commander."

"How well do you know me?"

"I'm sorry?"

Scully gently touched the thick bandage around her head. "My injury has…apparently there are a few

inconsistencies, gaps, in my memory. Forgive me."

"No need. I understand. And I am happy to help you fill in the blanks, Sub-commander. As for how well I know you, let me say that, simply put, I would die for you."

Scully rubbed her head, wishing the ache away. "I don't think that will be necessary." Not again, anyway, she

hoped.

"Are you sure you're all right? Perhaps you'd like to go back to the infirmary?"

"No."

"Then will you forgive my boldness in suggesting that you take it easy for a couple of days? I will do everything I can to cover for you. I anticipate the rest of the week will be spent putting out little Resistance fires and processing new prisoners. I can handle that for you."

"That's not a bad idea."

He headed for the door. Scully watched him. She had to do it, say it, try it.

"Pendrell?"

He turned with another of his boyish smiles. "Yes, Sub-commander?"

"Where would I find the base counselor?"

"Oh, you mean Doctor Mulder?"

Her breath caught. Her heart beat quickly in her chest. She felt the room moving again.

"Doctor Mulder? Yes. Doctor Mulder."

"When you're ready to go, I'll escort you myself."

Scully stood on shaky legs. "Now."

"May I suggest you change your uniform first?"

Scully looked down at the blood stained tunic.

"Good idea," she said. "Give me ten minutes."

Pendrell nodded then stood outside the door to wait.

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Scully could not stop fidgeting. She sat in a chair in front of the base counselor's desk wondering what would happen when he walked in. Would it be him? Would he recognize her?

Why was this man so important to her? She had asked for him the infirmary, and now the mere thought of his name alone made her anxious, nervous. Somehow she knew he was the key to the strange memories she was experiencing, and could help her unlock the mystery to find the truth.

The truth.

The door opened and a tall dark-haired man entered. His eyes were glued to a file. He was thin, yet strong. His hair was longer than she had remembered (remembered?). He wore a more casual style of uniform, but in the same fascist black with blue and gold.

And then he looked up. Hazel met azure blue. Scully felt her stomach tumble. He smiled.

"Sub-commander. Sorry to keep you waiting."

Hope faded like a forgotten dream. If he remembered, he could have helped her. If he remembered, he could have helped her place those strange memories, find her way back. He was her proof that something odd was happening. But he seemed to remember nothing outside of this world. His eyes did not reveal evidence of any special bond. Hope died looking into his eyes.

Scully sat back and looked down at the crucifix, the delicate gold chain rapped around her fingers.

"I heard about the ambush," Mulder said as he took a seat behind his desk. "How's the head?

"Fine. Hurts a bit."

"Blevins give you something for that?"

"Yes."

"Good. I heard that most of the members of your party are dead. How do you feel about that?"

"What, that they're dead, or that I survived?"

"Either."

"Quite honestly, I don't remember a lot. Much of the incident is sketchy."

"Go on."

"I remember gunfire, and hitting the ground. And I remember being very cold. That's all."

Mulder rose and moved to a small table with a metal pitcher of water and two small glasses. He filled both

glasses and handed one to Scully. She watched his eyes for hints, for clues, but found nothing. But she had to forge ahead. She had to know.

"There is something else. I have this strange feeling that none of this is real."

"Can you articulate?"

"Not without sounding like I'm out of my mind."

"I'm not here to judge you. I want to help."

Scully cleared her throat, searching for a place to begin. "I know where I am, yet I don't. I feel as if there's something else, someplace else I belong, but I'm here. It's familiar but somehow it's wrong. Blevins-Doctor Blevins said it's natural considering my injury, but I don't think it's the injury."

"What do you think it is?"

"It think…" She cleared her throat again. "I think I was abducted once."

"By whom?"

"I don't know."

"And you believe you've been abducted again?"

"I don't know."

Mulder got up and stood behind Scully's chair. His big, warm palms were suddenly, gently, resting on her shoulder.

This was not the kind of thing a doctor should do to a patient, Scully knew. But she did not move.

"Where were you when you were abducted?"

"I don't remember."

Mulder leaned down and whispered in her ear. "I remember, Dana."

Her breath caught, and her heart rate sped up. She felt a surge of adrenaline. Mulder's hands on her shoulders

applied a gentle pressure. A warning - keep still. Don't talk.

Mulder moved around so that she could see him. He held his index finger to his lips. Scully nodded.

"Could it be," he said, "that you dreamed this odd displacement scenario while you were unconscious?"

Mulder nodded at her, his eyes telling her to agree.

"I suppose. Yes."

"And could it be this abduction theory - this confusion - of yours is just some fantasy played out in your dreams and amplified by the trauma you experienced?"

She did not need him to coach her this time. "Yes, it could very well be."

"You see, sometimes, after a stressful event such as the one you recently encountered, fantasy and reality can become clouded, the line of demarcation seemingly erased. And the truth can seem muddied." Mulder pointed at a small picture frame on his desk.

There, in the tarnished frame was a picture of his sister Samantha, still eight years old, smiling. On the side of the

frame, however, Scully could see with closer scrutiny that what at first appeared to be part of the design, was actually a tiny listening device. She nodded.

"I see. So this feeling of unreality is in all probability brought on by stress."

"Exactly," Mulder said with a smile. "Your confusion will dissipate eventually. If you take it easy and take care of

yourself."

Mulder reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a small paper pad, then grabbed a pen. "I'm going to write you a prescription. This will help you sleep. Sleep is, after all, the best medicine."

He ripped the page from the pad and handed it to Scully. "Don't lose that," he said.

Scully looked down at the page. Instead of the unreadable scribble she associated with doctors' prescriptions, she saw, written in Mulder's oddly familiar scrawl, "Tonight, 11:00, Walt's."

Walt's meant nothing to her, but she knew she would find it. Scully nodded and stood up.

"Thank you for seeing me Doctor Mulder. I feel much better."

"That's what I'm here for."

As Scully turned to leave, Mulder reached out and took her hand. He squeezed it and gave her a smile. She returned the smile. Hope was rekindled.

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Pendrell was waiting outside the door for Scully. She eyed him suspiciously. What had he heard?

"All is well, I take it?" he asked after saluting.

"Yes. I'm fine."

"Did Doctor Mulder give you a prescription?"

Her heart skipped. To lie, or to tell the truth?

"Yes, he did."

"I can take care of it for you."

"No. I'll do it."

"It's my job."

"Not today, Pendrell."

"Then allow me…" Pendrell pulled a small cigarette lighter from his pocket and passed it to her.

Scully understood. She took the cigarette lighter from him, then set fire to the piece of paper. She let go and watched as black ash blew away.

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Walt's, according to Pendrell, "is a dive, one of the only places around for miles that still serves alcohol. You won't

find many Colonizers there, either. Apparently the owner has enough clout to say who gets in and who doesn't, and for some odd reason, the Colonizers respect that. Maybe once you see it again, you'll remember it."

"Maybe," Scully echoed as she rode along next to Pendrell in the Hummer. It was dark, darker than she could ever

remember night on earth being. The Colonizers had declared curfews to cut down on resistance activities. In

going through her files earlier, to try to determine just what she was supposed to do in her capacity as Sub-commander, Scully found it was her job to battle the Resistance and report directly to the Colonizers.

She also found that she had given the order for the imprisonment, interrogation, torture and deaths of over 200

men and women. The realization made her physically sick. This was not a world to which she wanted to belong.

The Colonizers, for the most part, looked human. But they were alien through and through. Not alien; she

remembered. The use of the word alien as it referred to the Colonizers was strictly forbidden. Any officer or

subordinate caught using that word, even in jest, would be subject to court martial, and court martial meant execution. The Colonizers did not recognize the human concept of mercy.

So many bits and pieces of memory of this existence were flowing back that Scully was finally beginning to believe

the images of herself and Mulder, black trench coats, dark alleys and a cluttered office were the dream. Even snippets of disjointed conversations began to fade the more she thought about them.

_I wouldn't put myself on the line for anyone but you, Mulder…_

_After all you've seen…_

_I say we don't let him waste another minute of our time…_

_Do you think I'm Spooky?_

_Time is a universal invariant…._

The Hummer came to a stop and Pendrell turned to her. "This is it."

Scully looked out the window. It looked like one of many old buildings standing like wounded soldiers along the

filthy deserted street. There were no neon signs or glowing chalkboards announcing the night's special. Just the sound of old blues music on a tinny radio. The Colonizers had outlawed almost all forms of music, but for some reason they like the blues. Go figure, Scully thought.

The place was dark and dingy, and smelled of old cheap beer and cigarettes. There were only a half dozen or so

individuals in the place, all of them officers of sub-commander rank and slightly higher, relaxing with a draught and chatting. Eyes turned to her as she walked to the bar, but they soon turned away, uninterested. She didn't know whether to be relieved or ticked off. She chose to dismiss it, and sat at the bar.

The bartender turned around with a mug of beer for her. He was a big man, broad across the chest. He wore glasses and a scowl that most might interpret as unfriendly at first. Beads of sweat had gathered on his balding pate. The scowl turned to a half smile.

"Scully."

"Sir!"

"Sir?" He laughed. "What happened to 'Walt?'"

Memories began flooding back again. Sitting before him, his discomforting scrutiny, pages and pages of reports.

_Inconclusive, sir…_

_The evidence was destroyed, sir…_

_I can neither confirm nor deny Agent Mulder's claim…_

_Unofficial channels…._

Scully felt the floor tilt. The air was suddenly sucked out of the room, and then lights went off.

END CHAPTER ONE

Thanks for your kind attention. Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

ALLEGIANCE

by

Lacadiva

Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the television series, The X-Files are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting, and Ten Thirteen Productions, and have been used without permission.

Summary: After Mulder and Scully are wounded in a bloody ambush, Scully awakens to find herself in a world

where The Day has come and gone, and a choice must be made between duty and Mulder.

Note: I wrote this story several years ago and archived it at Gossamer. Recently unearthed it and thought I'd put it up at . Don't know if people read X-Files stories much anymore, but I cut my teeth as a fanfic writer on this story and a couple other XF stories. On with the show.

Chapter 2

3rd and Western Avenue

Los Angeles, California

9:53 pm

She could hear sirens, not very loud at first, but growing louder. Someone was shouting, running. "Agents down!"

she could hear, but could not figure out what they were talking about. She saw someone laying next to her. He

was doubled over in a fetal position, a strangled sound coming from him. Mulder. It was Mulder! He was calling

her. A wet, scarlet hand reached out to her, grabbing her own hand. She wasn't sure, but it sounded like he was

crying. She strained to clear her vision.

"Mulder!"

She felt her lips move, but didn't hear anything come out. She tried to rise - she wanted to help him. And

then the pain hit her. Her face contorted, teeth grinding.

"Mulder!"

She heard herself call him that time. And then it was as if someone had covered her face with a dark

warm blanket.

_I'm not dead yet-I'm not dead yet…I'm not dead yet…._

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The first face she saw was Walter Skinner's.

"Feeling better?"

"I think so. What happened?"

"You passed out on my bar. I brought you back here to the storeroom. Wouldn't want anyone to think there's

something wrong with my stock."

Scully sat up on the broken, mildewed couch and look around. Nothing but dark shadows and old kegs. "Where's

Mulder?"

"Right here," came a familiar voice out of the shadows.

Mulder stepped into the meager light of the storeroom.

"I'll leave you two to talk," Skinner said, standing and backing out of the room. "I'm right outside the door if you

need me."

The moment Skinner disappeared, Mulder scooped Scully into his arms. He held her so tight she could barely

breathe. Scully didn't mind. She dug her fingers into his back.

Finally, she pulled away. "Mulder, what's happening? What's real? I'm losing my mind! One minute I believe I'm

who I am and then the next - Am I crazy, Mulder?"

"Sssshhhh." Mulder stroked her auburn hair. "No, you're not crazy. It was the same with me. I was here and I knew who I was and what I was, but I kept having these strong memories. Stronger than memories. Flashbacks. I could feel it, I was a part of it. But the Fox Mulder I could have sworn I was by their accounts never existed. Which of course -"

"- made you all the more suspicious."

"Exactly. The more I dug into this memory, the more I uncovered. They messed with our minds, Scully."

"The Colonizers?" Scully sat back down, letting the realization seep in. How much tinkering with her brain had

they done? What was she forgetting? What was fact and what was fiction? Were her memories of Mulder real, or simply manufactured data, created by the Colonizers? Her head began to pound.

"How do we know what we know, Mulder? How do we know if it's real? If any of THIS is real?"

"I don't' know, Scully. But I'm pretty certain name is Fox William Mulder. I was an agent for the FBI. So were you.

And somehow they did something to us to make us forget. They abducted us, maybe kept us drugged until after The Day."

"Colonization?"

"Yes. But then came the question of what to do with us."

"Why didn't they just kill us?"

"I asked myself that, too. Somebody wanted us alive. Somebody obviously thought we were useful to The

Project."

"Your father," she said as she rose on shaky legs and attempted a few steps. "Maybe his connection to the

Consortium long ago ensured your safety."

"I considered that. But they had him killed, remember? He couldn't have been that important to the equation."

"But apparently you are," said Scully, "and me, too. If what you're saying is true, then somewhere along the line,

somebody screwed up. If our minds were played around with, if these memories were never supposed to resurface again, then somebody obviously fell asleep at the controls. I don't remember everything, Mulder, but I remember enough. I…oh…"

Scully teetered again, dizziness threatening to send her to the floor. Mulder caught her and eased her back down on the couch.

"It was the same with me at first," he said. "When the memories of the past are strongest, the nausea would come, and the dizziness. I figure it's probably a fail-safe built into whatever we were programmed with. The more vivid the memory, the harder it is to remain conscious. You actively avoid recalling your past."

"I think I'm going to be sick, Mulder."

Scully put her head between her knees and breathed deeply. Mulder gently rubbed her back, occasionally running his finger though her hair. Eventually the nausea dissipated, and Scully sat up, looking slightly green, but still beautiful.

"Is it true, Mulder?" she asked in a quivering voice she barely recognized. "Is it true that I had over two hundred

innocent people murdered? That I signed their death warrants?"

"No, you didn't. The person they turned you into - Sub-commander Scully - she's responsible for that."

"She is me, Mulder, the same person."

"No, not the same person. That Scully was brutal, selfish, ambitious and vain."

"You really know how to sweet talk a girl, don't you?"

Mulder laughed. "You are Dana Scully, my partner, and my friend."

"What about you? What has the new you done?"

"You don't want to know."

"Tell me."

"No, Dana."

"Please. How much worse can it be, Mulder?"

Mulder cleared his throat, looked away. "I…I can't."

He tried to rise, but Scully wouldn't let him. She took his hand and held it to her cheek.

"Tell me."

"I will," he said, taking her hand and gently planting a kiss in her palm. "Someday. Right now, though, we have to get you back to the base."

"Why? I've got rank. No one seems to question my comings and goings."

"True, but no one is as powerful as the Colonizers, or their pet rats."

Scully saw a darkness in his eyes, a smoldering anger that gave her pause. "Mulder, there's more you're not telling

me."

"Scully, you're involved."

"In what?"

"Not 'in what'. 'With whom.'"

"Go on."

"Krycek."

"Krycek? Alex Krycek?"

"You're married to him."

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She didn't believe it, not a first. Didn't want to believe it. The Krycek she believed she remembered was a horrible

excuse for a Homo sapien. A traitor, a liar, a murderer. In this reality, he had to be the worst monster. Why would

she be yoked with a man like Krycek?

Pendrell's eyes darted from the road to Scully every few moments. Scully wanted to pick his brain for information,

but she wasn't sure how far she could go, or how far she could trust him. She decided to start simple, and let him

offer the information.

"So, it appears my husband is missing in action."

Pendrell didn't bite at first. She saw a darkness overtake his expression, just as it did with Mulder upon the mention of Alex Krycek.

"I believe he's due back tomorrow."

"I can see," said Scully, "that you're not one of his biggest fans."

"I meant no disrespect, Sub-commander. Commander Krycek is a considered a hero. He single-handedly saved

the Project from the hands of the Resistance."

"That's my Krycek."

Pendrell pulled over to the side of the road and turned to Scully. "Sub-commander, may I speak freely?"

"Please."

"Commander Krycek may be the best thing that ever happened to the Project, but he's the worse thing that ever

happened to you. How can you let him treat you the way he does?"

"Isn't that a bit overwrought? You said it yourself. He's a war hero. Wouldn't do to divorce a war hero."

"But he doesn't love you. Right now he's probably -"

"Probably what?"

Pendrell took a deep breath.

"I order you to finish what you were saying."

"He has women."

"You don't think I know that?"

"I wouldn't think you'd stand for it."

Scully smiled. "I don't."

"Then it's true. You and Doctor Mulder -"

"Doctor Mulder is my friend."

"You should choose your friends more carefully. People say Doctor Mulder is a mole for the Resistance."

A mole? Of course he is, she thought. Would he be Mulder if he wasn't making waves or making enemies?

Would he stand still and allow the atrocities of the Colonizers to be perpetrated on mankind without striking

back in some way?

"And what do you say?" she asked.

Pendrell stared at her for a long moment, as if she should have known the answer to that question. Finally, he said, "I say people should keep their mouths shut." Pendrell pulled back onto the road and continued driving in silence.

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Pendrell dropped Scully off in front of her quarters. He would not even wait for Scully to get inside before he

pulled off into the darkness. Scully shrugged, determined to find a way to make it up to him later.

She entered the dark quarters and instantly felt that odd familiar-yet-strange sensation she'd been feeling earlier.

She knew where to find the light switch, and reached out for it. Before she flicked it up, though, it occurred to her

that she was not alone.

Light filled the cramped room, revealing its drab, used furniture and lack of style. It also illuminated the man

standing by the window, his uniform tunic opened, revealing a pale but muscular frame, a glass of amber liquid in his true hand, the hand of his prosthetic limb covered by a black leather glove.

"Krycek!"

"What kind of greeting is that for a man who's been away for three weeks, risking his life and limb for the Project?"

He extended his arm in an invitation to embrace.

Scully couldn't move. Couldn't possibly allow him to touch her or come near her. She couldn't fake it, not even if it

meant her life. She hated him in her previous life, she was sure. No matter how scattered her memory she was certain beyond a doubt. So why would she feel any differently about him in this life?

"Some things never change," Krycek said with a scowl and took a gulp.

"You weren't due back until tomorrow," she said, walking over to the couch. She sat and decided to busy herself by removing her boots. This action seemed natural, almost practiced. She imagined this being a precursor to her

evening ritual.

"Here, let me help you."

Krycek put his drink down and knelt before her. He took her by the ankle. With one hand he deftly pulled off one

boot, then the other.

"I heard about your little ambush. You look none the worse for wear." He propped her left foot against his torso

and began to massage it.

"Stop that."

"Ssshhhh." Krycek kept rubbing. "How's this?"

"What do you want, Krycek?"

"Only to please my beautiful, powerful wife."

Scully tried to pull her foot away, but Krycek held on to her tighter.

"Come on, there was a time-"

"I honestly don't remember it."

"I know it's been a while, but I've been busy."

"With whom?"

"Are you implying that I'd cheat on you?"

"Yes."

Krycek let go of her foot and stood, retrieving his drink.

"Well, what would you expect, seeing as I'm married to the Ice Princess of Company C."

Scully grabbed her boots and headed for the bedroom. Krycek quickly jumped in front of her and stood before the

doorway. Liquor spilled from his glass against the wall. He angrily threw the glass across the floor.

"Dana, please."

"Out of my way, Krycek."

"Dana! Look, we got off on the wrong foot. You didn't want to marry me, I didn't want to marry you, but it doesn't

matter what we want. You know the drill. They say jump and we asking how high."

"It doesn't mean I have to like it."

"I know. But if you could just-." He ran a hand tenderly down her arm.

"If you could just give me a chance. I know I could make you happy."

"You can start by getting out of my way."

"It's HIM, isn't it?"

Scully's heart leapt into her throat.

Krycek grabbed Scully's arm and pinned it behind her back, then pulled her close. She could feel the heat of his breath, smell the scotch.

"Let me go, Krycek!"

"It's HIM, that MULDER idiot isn't it. You want to know what I heard about Mulder? I heard he's the mole

everybody's looking for. You know what that means? It means if you're caught fraternizing with a mole, you might

as well be one yourself. The Colonizers have no mercy when it comes to the Resistance. You know that as well as

I do."

"Krycek, you're paranoid. Let me go."

"You stay away from him."

"If he's the mole, why haven't you turned him in?"

Krycek gave her a shove, then ambled back over to the liquor cabinet to pour him a fresh one. "Just stay away from him. He's tainted. He's trouble. It's just a matter of time. Besides, we have important work to do, you and I.

Word just came down from the grand pooba. We have to have a baby."

"What?"

"A baby. You know, they're small and smelly and keep you up all night. They grow up to disappoint you and if you're lucky you'll die before they can try to kill you." Krycek quickly downed the liquor and let out a satisfied growl, then poured another.

"It's impossible."

"That depends on your point of view." Krycek wander back over by Scully, but kept his distance. "There's only

one point of view that matters, however. The Colonizers'. They want you to conceive. I don't know about you, pretty lady, but I'm happy to comply."

"Why? Aren't they through experimenting with us?"

"Why don't you ask them. I can't think of any reason this world needs any little red-headed Uber-Scullys running

around, but then again, it ain't my plan."

"Well, they've pretty much ruined any chance of that. I can't conceive."

Krycek reached into his pocket and pulled a tiny vial. He held it up to the dim light.

"What's that?" asked Scully.

"An implant that can reverse your 'barren' condition."

"I will not submit to that."

"I'm sorry, did I give you the impression you had a choice?"

Scully backed away, heading for the door. Krycek was on her in a second, whipping her around the face him. Scully automatically reached for his face and dug fingers into his eyes. Krycek screamed and pushed Scully against the wall. Then he hauled back with his prosthetic arm and swung at Scully.

She heard muffled crack and instantly the world went dark.

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"AGENT SCULLY! AGENT SCULLY! Can you hear me?"

The ground was cold under her. Gravel was biting into the back of her head. The world above her, what little was in focus, was spinning. Faces - all strangers - were over her, close, all with panicked expressions. All seemed to be talking all at once, but she could barely hear them. They kept calling her name. Asking her questions. Then

someone started pulling at her clothes. Cutting them away. What was happening? Where was Mulder?

"We got a pulse! We need an airway! Get her on the gurney! On three-one, two, three-"

The world became dark and terribly silent again.

XFXFXFXFXFXFXFXF

Scully woke up in Blevin's office again. This time he sat across the room, writing at his desk. She tried to sit up, but

she could not. She was weak, and groggy, but not enough to keep her flat on the table. And then she realized she was in restraints.

"What is this about-" Her speech was slurred.

Blevins rose and came to the examining table. "Please, Sub-commander Scully, you must calm down."

"No!" she said, pulling against the restraints that held her wrist firmly to the table.

"You did it, didn't you! You put that thing- THAT IMPLANT - in my body! Why?"

"Please, calm yourself, or I'll have to sedate you."

"No! I'm calm," she said, lowering her head back to the table, letting her voice become softer and lower. "I'm calm. Doctor Blevins, please, I implore you, tell me what that thing was, what it's supposed to do."

"It won't hurt you, I can assure you."

"It doesn't belong there. You have to remove it. Please."

"I can't, Sub-commander Scully. I have my orders. Now, you must rest, or I will have to sedate you."

"Excuse me, Doctor Blevins," came a voice from across the room. Krycek's. "May I speak to my wife in private?"

Blevins nodded and left. She could hear Krycek as he crossed the room. He appeared over her like a shadow.

Scully could think of nothing but ways to kill this man, and how to prolong his agony in doing it.

"Feeling better, darling?" he asked with a nasty grin. "I'm sorry I had to resort to brutality, but your cooperation was essential to my survival. And yours. Is there much pain?"

"Why would I think for a moment you would care?"

"I don't. But having you suffer won't make this process work any better. I'd get this over with right now, while

you're in no position to fight me. But you might be surprised to know that even I have my limits. There's only

so far I will go. I still harbor the belief that we can do this and be friends. The Doctor, however, says no physical

contact for at least three days. So I'll just have to dream about it, till then." He knelt down to kiss Scully. She spat

in his face.

Krycek merely smiled, and wiped his face on Scully's gown. "Well, so much for being friends. Have it your way

Scully. Bring him in."

Scully didn't know to whom he was referring until a guard entered the room, pushing Pendrell ahead of him.

Pendrell's face was swollen and bruised, his eyes blackened, his lip split and bleeding. He held his side,

barely able to breathe.

"We got our mole."

"Pendrell?"

"No!" he chided Scully, then to Pendrell, "Tell her. I want her to hear it from you. And don't leave anything out."

Pendrell looked at Scully with deeply apologetic eyes. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out at first. The guard nudged him with the business end of his automatic weapon.

"Mulder was arrested this morning. He's in Prison Block D, awaiting execution."

Scully felt her heart racing, could feel her blood surging, pounding in her ears.

"Go on," teased Krycek. Pendrell looked at him with defiant eyes, refusing to speak. Pendrell would not. "Then

I'll finish the story. Fox Mulder was charged with sedition. He's being interrogated as we speak. I'm missing the party."

Scully felt her resolve wither into a prayer for death. For Mulder, and for herself.

"What do you want, Krycek? What do you want to let Mulder and Pendrell go?"

"What? No mention of yourself? My little sacrificial lamb. Wait. It gets better. Tell her the other thing, Pendrell. Go on."

Pendrell's lips drew tightly as he looked down, ashamed, embarrassed.

"TELL HER!"

"I love you, Sub-commander. I always have." Pride found its way back into his voice along with the courage to look Scully in the eyes. "And I always will."

"Ain't that sweet?" sang Krycek. "What do you think about that, wife? As your husband, I think I should be a little

jealous, don't you?"

Krycek pulled out his service weapon and aimed it at Pendrell's head.

"NO!"

Panic twisted Pendrell's face. "MULDER'S NOT THE MOLE IT'S -"

The sound of gunfire left Scully's ears ringing. Her eyes were shut so tightly she thought she would have to pry

them open.

_I would die for you_, Pendril had said.

"KRYCEK! NO." She was surprised by how weak her own voice sounded, despite the fury she felt. She pulled

against the bindings around her wrists, feeling them cut into her skin.

Krycek gestured to the guard to get rid of the body. The bulky guard dragged Pendrell's bleeding corpse away,

leaving a long red streak on the off-white floor.

"I just saved your life, Mrs. Krycek, and you don't even realize it. As usual, Alex Krycek is cast as the bad guy.

You'll understand someday, when your memory returns. You see, that little bullet wound of your seems to have

erased a few interesting details from your hard drive, but you'd be surprised the kinds of thing you reveal when you're under the influence of Doc Blevin's drugs. You told me things that…well, let's just say you know more than you think you know. And you'd be sharing a cell with your beloved Mulder if that information got out. I just snuffed the only person who knew the truth. Other than me of course. But I promise you, no one will ever know. That is, if you promise never to be a bad girl again."

"He said Mulder's not the moke, that he's innocent!"

"None of us are innocent, my sweet Dana. All our hands are tainted with the blood of others. It's just a matter of

playing the game, and who has the most toys. Right now, I have Mulder. I know he's not the mole, but what the hell, I can dangle him like a carrot in front of you the rest of your life. So it comes to this: You play the role of the sweet, loving, obedient wife for me, and I'll keep Mulder alive."

"Krycek, I will do whatever you say, say whatever you want, if you let Mulder go."

"He means that much to you? I believe I AM jealous now. But I'm in a merciful mood. And even though I know you won't believe it, Mrs. Krycek, I do feel something for you.

Maybe I can do something to save him from the executioner's block, for you."

"You'll let him go?"

"That's not what I said. He'll stay in prison until I'm positive you're a team player, and you're not playing both

sides of the field. Step on a crack, I'll break Mulder's back. Step on the line, I'll personally snap his spine."

"I'll play your game."

"I knew you were smart. Who knows, you might wake up one morning and decide I'm not half bad."

"Don't count on it."

"As a sort of-baby shower gift-I suppose I could lobby to have Mulder placed in a re-education camp. Death or

re-ed. Hard to say which is worse, know what I mean? But some camps are worse than others. There's one in Arizona that's been called Club Med compared to places I've seen. I can have him sent there on a two-year plan. He won't be the same man coming out as going in, but he'll always be Mulder to me."

Krycek moved closer, so that Scully could feel his hot breath against her ear. "Maybe I can make this a little

easier for you, Dana. Tell you a little something about your precious Mulder you should know, before you make plans for your future."

Krycek took a file from Blevin's desk and dropped it on Scully's midsection. "He's not the little savior-dude he

makes out to be." He unsnapped both wrist restraints, then the ankle restraints.

"What is this?" she asked.

"Sit up, see for yourself."

Scully thought she would pass out as she fought to sit up. Once up, however, the room stopped spinning. She saw the name on the file. SCULLY, MARGARET A. Next to the name was a red stamp - CLOSED.

"My mother… What are you doing with this?"

"Open it, " Krycek said. As she did, Krycek continued.

"Poor thing. She was half out of her mind. She didn't take too well to re-ed. So it was the recommendation of the

chief psychological officer responsible for her re-ed that Margaret Scully be put out of her misery. Death by lethal

injection. I heard they go pretty quickly, but not completely painlessly."

Scully felt a lump the size of a fist in her throat. Her ears began to ring. She saw the signature at the bottom of the

page. FW Mulder. Fox Mulder. Mulder had administered the injection himself.

"This is a lie," she said through clenched teeth.

"I wish it were, Scully. But it isn't. You could ask him, if you want."

XFXFXFXFXFXFXFXF

Cellblock D smelled of death. Many times the tortured prisoners awaiting execution expired during their wait.

Many times they found ways to take their own lives, put themselves out of their misery, thus saving the Project time and money in carrying out execution orders.

Dana Scully walked the corridor to cell D42-1013. What she found made her shudder.

Mulder lay on the floor huddled in a fetal position. Dried blood was encrusted around his lips and nose. His hands

were bruised, as if smashed during a rather arduous torture session. His feet were bare, and red-raw on the bottom.

"Mulder?"

He stirred. Swollen eyes looked up and found Scully's face. He tried to speak, but his voice was raw, no doubt

from screaming.

"Did you sign the execution order for my mother?"

Mulder said nothing, could not say anything, but began to tremble.

"Did you kill her? I have to know."

Mulder looked away, ashamed, afraid. He nodded once; just the slight tilt of the head.

Scully turned and walked away, boot heels echoing down the cold concrete corridor.

END CHAPTER 2

Thanks! Please comment, review, if you're moved to!


	3. Chapter 3

ALLEGIANCE

by

Lacadiva

Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the television series, The X-Files are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting, and Ten Thirteen Productions, and have been used without permission.

Summary: After Mulder and Scully are wounded in a bloody ambush, Scully awakens to find herself in a world

where The Day has come and gone, and a choice must be made between duty and Mulder.

Note: I wrote this story several years ago and archived it at Gossamer. Recently unearthed it and thought I'd put it up at . Don't know if people read X-Files stories much anymore, but I cut my teeth as a fanfic writer on this story and a couple other XF stories. On with the show.

Chapter 3

"Good evening, Walt."

Walter Skinner looked up from the book he was reading and offered Scully a smile. "Twice in one week. I must be

getting luckier."

"I don't know about that."

"What can I get you?"

"How about a coffee? And some information."

"I'm not an informant. Not anymore."

Skinner placed a steaming mug before Scully, then poured himself a cup. He noticed the deep circles under Scully's

eyes, the paleness of her complexion, and the slightly drooping posture that made her look shorter than usual.

Mulder's imprisonment, no doubt, had gotten to her.

"I'm curious," she began. "How is it this place isn't bugged? Or is it?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I just want to make sure I can talk freely."

"About?"

"Mulder. I don't understand how all the pieces fit, and I was hoping you'd help me. You're close to Mulder. He

must have told you; my memory is trying to reassert itself."

"He mentioned it in passing. For your information, I have this place swept three times a day. And I have jamming

devices for the ones I miss."

"Who's the mole?"

"Mole?"

"The spy? It's not Mulder."

"What makes you think I know?"

"Just a feeling I get. Somebody around here has to know the truth."

"And you think that somebody's me? What about you, Scully? Where do you stand on the truth?"

"I would for once like to recognize it when I hear it. Krycek told me…he showed me a file. Mulder had my

mother executed. Is it true?"

"Yes."

Scully looked down at her hands folded on the bar. One tear streaked down her cheek and fell on her thumb.

"She would have died a far more miserable death, wasting away in re-ed. That's just my opinion. Besides, someone of a higher rank had to approve that order."

"You're saying I knew?"

"You were both different people."

Skinner passed her a white cocktail napkin. She gently blew her nose.

"Krycek is using Mulder to get me to submit to conceiving a child with him at the behest of the Colonizers.

Apparently they want -"

"You can't do that."

"I know, but -"

"No, Scully. You can't. If you do, you're dead. I don't know everything they did to you - the tests - but I know

enough to know that any progeny of yours won't be human. They won't even need you to bring it to full term. They'll take it and discard you like last night's trash."

"I have no intention of going through with it. I want to help Mulder to escape. And I want the Resistance to help me. Will you contact them for me?"

"I can't help you, Scully."

"Please, sir-"

"Don't call me that."

"What? Sir? That's what I used to call you. You were in authority over me. I don't remember it clearly but you

were, yet we were somehow friends. And you remember it too. Don't you?"

"I remember because my memory was never wiped. I'm one of the few they left intact, able to remember the

whole, sordid tale."

"Then help me! Tell me who I am! Tell me who we were! Tell me how I can save Mulder! Please, sir! Would you

have let Mulder be sacrificed then? Something in me tells me that he would put his life on the line for you or for me without giving it a thought.. I'm sure of it! I remember you risked your own life and career on more occasions than one for him. How is now any different?"

"The stakes are a little higher."

"Then what will it take, sir?""

"Don't!" Skinner drew a deep breath and stared Scully down. "This place may not be bugged, but a Colonizer

could walk in at any minute!"

"The Resistance! I want in."

"You already are."

"But I - "

"You're the mole, Scully."

XFXFXFXFXFXFXFXF

They sat waiting in Scully's Hummer outside an abandoned U-Lock storage facility on the outskirts of town. They

were told someone would come to escort them inside.

While they waited, Skinner told her everything he knew, which was enough to immerse Scully in more confusion.

Mulder was never the mole - at least officially. He did however do whatever he could to sabotage the Project from within. But it was Scully who provided the Resistance with information, such as where the convoy would be when the ambush occurred that left her wounded with a grazed temple. Now she realized why she was the only survivor.

"Playing both sides of the playing field. That's what Krycek called it. And that's how you've been able to survive," she said.

"It isn't the most level playing field we've ever encountered."

At that moment, the corrugated metal door was wrenched open. The Bounty Hunter gestured them inside with a

slight tilt of the head.

"No." The word escaped Scully's lips before she could stop it. She reached for her gun. "You set me up!"

"Will you relax, Scully! He's one of us."

"How do you know? How can you even tell?"

"If he doesn't break your neck when you step inside, you're safe."

With that Skinner hopped out of the hummer and headed for the door. The Bounty Hunter pulled back a slab of

metal to make his access easier. Scully put her gun away and followed.

They walked down the darkened, smelly hall, dodging rats, garbage and the remains of other people's belongings that had not been looted during the riots that followed the first Days. She followed the Bounty Hunter at a safe distance, far enough away to make an escape if he should turn on them.

Skinner stopped to allow Scully to catch up with him.

"You can relax, Scully, you're in resistance territory now."

"Why is he in the Resistance?" she asked, gesturing at the Bounty Hunter.

"He isn't, not exactly. He works for one of the many players who help keep the Colonizers off our backs, however."

"Who?"

They stopped at a door that read 'employees only'.

"The same power that keeps you busy rolling tanks over innocent people."

The Bounty Hunter opened the door and stepped out of the way. Cigarette smoke assaulted Scully's sinuses. Sitting at a desk, surrounded by a blue-gray cloud was the Cigarette Smoking Man.

"Keeps the game interesting, don't you agree, Sub-Commander Scully?" the CSM asked as twin streams

of smoke blew out of his nostrils. "I want to be on the winning team. Don't you?"

"Not if it means I have to sacrifice everyone to ensure my own survival," Scully said with a hiss.

"Not every one. I like you. You were my favorite convert. That's the only reason you've been allowed to continue

playing the game. I liked Mulder, too, but it seems his fate has been sealed." He stamped his cigarette out, and shook another from the crumpled pack.

"No," said Scully. "Not if you intervene. You have the power to help him."

"Why should I?"

"Because you'll have me in your hip pocket."

Skinner grabbed Scully's elbow and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Don't make deals with the devil. You can't afford the price."

The CSM's smile looked like a cobra's face moments before striking. He lit the fresh cigarette and took a deep

drag.

"I don't care," said Scully, pulling away from Skinner and turned back to the CSM. "I need your help. And the help

of the Resistance."

"Mulder isn't important enough to call in such a favor."

"So I'll owe them. I can't let him die. It should be me in that cell."

"Don't be a martyr, Sub-Commander Scully."

"I'm not trying to be a martyr! What will it take?"

"A small favor in return."

"Tell me."

The Cigarette Man looked to Skinner to set the terms of the agreement. Skinner ran a hand over his bald head and felt sweat. "Kill Krycek."

She smiled slightly. "Consider it done."

XFXFXFXFXFXFXFXF

Scully sat in Blevin's empty office staring at the examining table. She had the table draped with fresh paper and had lined up instruments, antibiotic cleansers and bandages, waiting for her patient to arrive. She had used her internal influence to arrange for Mulder's trip to the infirmary, when Blevins would be conveniently on duty at one of the other two Colonizer bases where he patched up the wounded.

There was a knock, and then a guard entered to make sure the room was secured. Two more guards, half- carrying

Mulder's broken body, lifted him onto the examining table. Two guards left, one remained.

"You can leave, too, if you like. This patient's too banged up to be a threat. If he makes a move, I'll shoot him."

"Yes, Sub-commander." The guard left.

She then reached out to touch Mulder's swollen and bloodied hands. He pulled them away quickly.

"I don't want to hurt you, Mulder. I only told him I'd shoot you so he would leave. Let me see your hands."

Mulder allowed her to look at them, to touch them.

"No broken bones," she said, the clinician in her taking over. "But they're going to be pretty sore for a while.

She picked up shears and began cutting Mulder's sweat and blood stained shirt away from him. She flinched and

looked away when she saw the severity of the bruises. Deep, dark splotches covered his entire torso. She shifted

him to one side to pull the remains of the shirt from under him. Mulder cried out in pain, tensing, trying to curl into a protective ball. Scully found even more bruises and deep cuts crusted with dried blood across his back.

"They're running out of places to beat you," she said.

"So now it's your turn?"

"Mulder, no. I want to help you." She began dabbing away dried patches of blood, probing the open wounds to find out how deep they were. "I don't think you'll need stitches. I've arranged to have you stay here in the infirmary for a day or two, where I can keep an eye on you. And no one will be able to interrogate you. Why didn't you tell them I'm the mole, Mulder?"

He winced, sucking air loudly between this clenched teeth as Scully dabbed at another wound, and doused it with

antiseptic.

"Why didn't you tell them?" Mulder asked.

"Touche. First, because my faulty memory conveniently allowed me to forget. Skinner had to fill me in. Secondly,

because I realized if I'd told them, I'd be sitting in jail with you. With my sub-c status intact, I could at least arrange

for your comfort."

"Patch me up then spit me back out for more interrogating before the execution."

"No, not if I can help it. There won't be any execution. I've cut a couple of deals."

"With your husband?"

"With him, and someone else. And stop calling him that."

"And you believe your hus – Krycek, will honor his end of the deal? What's he want?"

"You don't need to know."

"Tell me."

"It doesn't matter, Mulder. Now hold still."

"Tell me!"

"He wants a child, Mulder. The Colonizers have ordered it."

Mulder tried to rise.

"Where are you going?"

"Back to D-Block. Guard!"

"Mulder, don't be ridiculous."

"You chose your side. I've chosen mine."

"I'm on your side, Mulder. I choose you. I have no intention of honoring my end of the bargain. I'd sooner rot

in hell than let Krycek lay a hand on me. Now please, lie back and let me help you."

Mulder was an inch from passing out. He lay back down on the examining table and closed his eyes against the

swimming sensation inside his head.

"Since when did 'trust no one' include me, Mulder?"

"I'm sorry," he said. "It hasn't been a good day."

They sat in silence for a moment. Mulder simply stared at her face, intrigued by how she scowled slightly in

professional concentration as she slowly wrapped Mulder's hands in gauze.

"I didn't know her then," he said.

"What are you talking about, Mulder?"

"You mother. Maggie."

Scully wondered if he saw her wince at the sound of her mother's name.

He continued. "I wasn't who I am now. When I realized later what I'd done, to her, to you - "

"I know."

"If I'd known, I would have done anything to protect her. For you."

"I know, Mulder."

"I'm sorry, Scully. I should have told you. I couldn't."

"There's something else I should tell you. The Resistance-"

Before she could finish, a Guard entered, a different one, followed by a Colonizer - the one Scully had dubbed the

Bounty Hunter. No, not the same one, she noticed. Thought he looked just like all the rest, the insignia on his

uniform indicated a lower rank. A bad clone batch, no doubt, she thought. Scully felt her heart rate pick up, but

continued wrapping Mulder's hands and fought to keep a poker face.

"Don't you generally knock before entering a room?" she asked.

"I have orders to deliver."

"I'm listening."

"I've come to tell you that Prisoner Mulder's transfer to Re-ed is scheduled for oh-six-hundred tomorrow morning."

Scully froze and looked Mulder in the eye. She had hoped she'd have more time with him. She thought she could

shield him from further harm. But then she remembered her deal was made with Krycek. She resumed wrapping his hand, and prayed none of them - especially Mulder - noticed that her own hands were shaking.

Neither the guard nor the Colonizer made a move toward the door. "You've delivered your message. You may go

now."

"Unfortunately, Sub-commander, there is some concern from Commander Krycek that the prisoner may attempt an escape. We are under orders to escort him back to cell block D immediately."

"Sure, fine, whatever," Scully murmured, hoping to sound nonchalant. Looking directly at Mulder, she asked, "Do

you have a last request before your transfer? Maybe I can get a letter to somebody. Family member, or a friend.

Perhaps your friend, George Hale, should know."

Mulder looked at Scully and could have sworn he saw a twinkle in her eyes. George Hale. The name sounded

familiar.

"George would want to be there for you, to say goodbye. I'll make sure he knows, and that he's there in the morning. Do you understand?"

Scully stepped back and Mulder tried painfully to climb off the examining table. The guard moved forward to pull

Mulder down, and slung one of Mulder's arms over his shoulder. Mulder wince and held back the urge to cry out.

As they walked by Scully, she gave him one last look and what Mulder could have sworn was a smile as she walked

out.

For the first time since his imprisonment and for reasons that were not yet clear, Mulder felt a sense of hope.

XFXFXFXFXFXFXFXF

It was still dark, thought a thin sense of light was burgeoning in the skies.

Two hummers and two motorcycle-riding guards flanked the truck that carried Mulder to the train that would

transport him and several hundred other prisoners to Re-ed. No doubt Krycek had ordered the showy extra security just to keep Scully in line.

Scully rode along in a hummer, a new driver at her side. She sent a silent prayer on Pendrell's behalf and also prayed that her hand would be steady when she aimed her automatic weapon at Krycek's face. IF he ever showed up.

The transport convoy had to leave without Krycek. Word came down that he had been called away on more

important Colonizer business. Scully was worried at first, but vowed that one way or another the s.o.b. would die

sometime before the sun went down this day. She hoped that the promise made by Skinner and the Cigarette Man would be kept. Mulder's life depended on it. Her life depended on it, too.

The hummer began to slow. Scully looked up and noticed all the vehicles had their break lights on.

"Why are we stopping?" she asked. Was this it?

"Uncertain, Sub-commander. Hang on. I'll check."

The driver killed the engine and stepped out of the hummer. Scully watched as he walked up to the vehicle in

front of them.

One loud gunshot rang out. Scully could not hold back her gasp when she saw a piece of the Driver's head fly away in a bloody chunk and realized he had been shot by a sniper.

She reached for her weapon. Then she heard the side window of the hummer being smashed in. She turned and

found herself looking down the barrel of a rather large semi-automatic weapon. Suddenly the entire road was

filled with men and women with similar weapons, all dressed in khaki green and camouflage uniforms from days

of old, all with faces painted covered, until the entire convoy was surrounded.

No one waited for orders to fire. The next shot came from somewhere behind Scully's hummer. Before she could duck or return fire, a fist crashed through the remaining glass in the window and grabbed her by the hair.

"GET OUT! GET OUT!" the Resistance rebel screamed. Scully opened the door as best she could with someone

yanking her hair, and climbed out. Her weapon flew out of her hand as she was thrown face down on the ground.

"Get your man out of there and get out of here!" the rebel demanded, then ran, ran off, laying down sporadic bursts of gunfire to cover her way.

Scully retrieved her gun and ran toward the truck that carried Mulder. She reached for the latch, ducking and

wincing as bullets flew all around her, hitting the truck, hitting the tires, striking mere inches from her face and

body.

She cursed when she found that the truck was locked, and she didn't have the key. The one who did was out there

somewhere, participating in the battle.

"MULDER!" she cried, banging on the truck doors. "MULDER! Can you hear me!"

She put her ear against the door and listed. She could hear a muffled voice, and could hear him banging against the door.

"STAND AWAY!" she yelled, then took several steps back and aimed for the truck door latch. She fired six times in

succession and watched as pieces of the metal flew away, until the locking mechanism was destroyed. Hope filled her heart as she raced to the doors and flung them opened. Hope died when she looked inside.

Krycek was holding Mulder in a choke hold with his prosthetic arm, and a gun to his head. "I just had to see for

myself," he shouted, "how far my wife would go to snatch the man she loved from the jaws of death. Unfortunately, you picked the wrong man."

END CHAPTER 3

Again, my thanks for your kind attention.


	4. Chapter 4

ALLEGIANCE

by

Lacadiva

Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the television series, The X-Files are the creations and property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting, and Ten Thirteen Productions, and have been used without permission.

Summary: After Mulder and Scully are wounded in a bloody ambush, Scully awakens to find herself in a world

where The Day has come and gone, and a choice must be made between duty and Mulder.

Note: I wrote this story several years ago and archived it at Gossamer. Recently unearthed it and thought I'd put it up at . Don't know if people read X-Files stories much anymore, but I cut my teeth as a fanfic writer on this story and a couple other XF stories. On with the show.

CHAPTER 4

Scully's training - FBI or Colonizer? - took over. She fell into a defensive stance and raised her gun at Krycek,

aiming for the spot between his eyes.

"Shoot me," he said, "and you'll risk my finger moving just enough to pull the trigger and blow your lover's head off. That would be bad, considering all the trouble you went through to rescue him."

Scully noticed that the gunfire had ceased. The rebels were retreating. No, not retreating. Leaving. Scattered all over the road and the dried grass shoulder were all human officers - dead, dying, bleeding. Some crawling, trying to get away, others were crying out in pain.

"You did this, Scully," said Krycek. "You killed every one of them."

"No," she said, steadying her gun. "I didn't want it to happen this way. I didn't know."

Krycek tightened his grip on Mulder and smiled as he winced in pain. "You're not stupid! You knew. What did

you think they'd do? Walk up to us an humbly ask us to hand over Fox Mulder? You think you're better than me,

but you're not. At least I don't plead ignorance and go on my merry way. Murder's murder."

"You knew all along I was the mole," Scully said.

"Of course I knew you were the mole. The interesting thing is, Scully, you were my mole."

"That can't be! I spied on you. I passed information to the resistance to thwart you!"

"Every piece of information you passed on, came directly from me."

"No."

"Game's finally over, Scully. You lose. Time for me to collect."

Krycek slammed Mulder hard into the side of the truck, then turned his gun on Scully and fired.

The slug tore into her thigh, forcing her down. She hit the ground hard, a strangled scream forced from her throat.

She held on to her own gun, but knew she would be too weak to use it.

Krycek took a few steps closer to the edge of the truck bed and aimed down at Scully, ready to finish the job. "Plans have changed. No more baby. I want a divorce," he said with a smile.

"Happy to oblige," she said, weakly lifting her gun. She knew it was futile. She was losing blood too quickly and

losing her ability to focus. Shock was already setting in.

Suddenly Krycek came flying out of the truck with a shout. He didn't jump. He was pushed. Mulder had pushed him.

Mulder stood, leaning against the wall of the truck, a satisfied grin on his pained face, as Krycek hit the ground.

Scully managed to smile.

She heard a snap - the sound of Krycek's prosthetic arm cracking into pieces as he hit the tarmac. She would have

laughed if it didn't hurt so badly.

Mulder climbed out of the truck and went to Krycek's prone body. He kicked Krycek in the face so hard that

Mulder fell backwards. Krycek let out a cry, then scrambled to his feet to charge at Mulder.

Scully fired.

The bullet hit Krycek in the back. Scully knew it must have torn through his shriveled heart. Krycek turned and gave Scully a confused look. "Why'd you -"

He hit the ground before he could finish.

Mulder and Scully scrambled toward each other. Mulder did the best he could to help Scully to her feet and carry her away from the battleground. Both knew that units were probably on their way to round up and execute the parties responsible for the ambush. Both knew they would be as good as dead if they were found.

"Mulder! I can't, my leg -"

Mulder moved to carry her, but Scully knew that would not last long, not in his beaten condition. Mulder managed to get her off the ground, but could only carry her a few steps before his own legs gave out and he fell to his knees, his body threatening to shut down, feeling unconsciousness sneaking up on him.

"I'm sorry, Scully."

Mulder placed a hand on her bleeding wound and tried to put pressure on it. Scully screamed out and held onto him. He stopped, knowing it was useless. He wasn't a doctor, but he knew from his own experience that without

immediate attention Scully would bleed to death before either of them could get away.

Mulder stood and ran weakly for the hummer. He jumped in, revved it, and pulled it out of the convoy line and drove it over to Scully. He leaped out and went to her, his intention to lift her and put her inside and drive away.

He didn't get the chance.

From somewhere came the sound of gunfire. Scully saw something red leap from Mulder's chest and felt warm

blood splatter her face. She recoiled, suppressing the urge to scream.

Mulder's face was neutral as he looked down at the gaping, bloody hole in his chest. He collapsed to his knees, then hit the ground. Pain registered then. He let out a scream that made Scully's blood run cold.

"MULDER! MULDER, NO!"

Scully looked up and saw Krycek. He was lying on the ground, smiling, a gun in hand, smoke still rising from the

barrel. Scully brought her own gun up and fired again, this time hitting Krycek straight between the eyes. He died

instantly.

"Mulder!" Scully crawled over to him. Forgetting the pain in her leg, she shoved her arms under Mulder's armpits and tried to lift the tall man and drag him. She could hear helicopters over head and hear hummers heading their way.

"Come on, Mulder! Help me!"

"No, Scully, don't move me. DON'T MOVE ME!"

The last words came out in a gurgle. She looked at Mulder's face and saw a torrent of blood erupt from his

mouth, spilling down his chin and to his chest.

"Don't move me," he begged. "Please."

"I won't," was all she could say. She sat down and cradled him in her arms, moving him as little as possible. Each

minute movement caused him to cry out.

She could hear the Colonizers getting closer.

"Mulder?"

"Not your fault. My fault."

"No. None of this was ever your fault. I had a choice. I made my choice and I stand by it."

"Me, too."

Scully felt the wind whipping her head, and looked up to see a 'copter hovering just above them.

"Throw your weapon aside!" came the amplified voice from the 'copter. "You are under arrest." Scully threw her

gun as far away as she could, then wrapped her arms around Mulder again.

"Scully?" His body seized up as if he'd been hit with an electrical shock. An agonized groan escaped his lips, along

with bubbling stream of blood and fluid.

She saw the hummers heading their way, filled with armed Colonizers and foot soldiers. They had but a few seconds left.

"Scully!"

"Yes, I'm here."

"It's so cold."

"I know." She held him tighter, closer. "Is that better?"

"Yes," he lied.

The vehicles formed a semi-circle around them. Soldiers with guns aimed and ready to fire jumped from the

hummers and moved on them.

"Hold your fire," Scully cried out. "Please. I won't fight. I'll go peacefully. Let me stay until the end. Please."

The Bounty Hunter stepped out of his hummer and took three steps forward. Scully looked him dead in the eye.

"Please," she said.

The Bounty Hunter nodded stoically. The men and women in his charge relaxed, but kept their weapons trained on Scully.

"Mulder?"

"Still here? Shoulda ditched me, while you had the chance."

"With this bum leg? I couldn't get very far."

"I can't stand-" he began, but a surge of pain and anger hit him. He took a raspy deep breath and tried again. "I can't stand the thought, they're going to execute you, because of me," he forced out and sank deeper into her arms, his last ounce of strength spent.

"I wouldn't put myself on the line for anyone else but you."

"Oh, God, Scully, it hurts. It HURTS."

"I know." She held him tighter, and felt his body tense, then begin to shudder.

"Always thought I'd go out with a bang, not a whimper."

"Are you coming onto me, Mulder?" she asked tearfully.

Mulder tried to laugh, but it hurt too much. "Don't let them take you. Go fighting. Fight the -"

Mulder could not finish. He simply looked at her with those ever-changing hazel eyes. Suddenly, the look of

suffering disappeared from his face. He simply smiled.

And then he died.

Scully held him close and cried.

"Time to go," the Bounty Hunter said. Guards lifted Scully to her feet. She barely noticed the pain in her leg anymore. She allowed herself to be carried toward a hummer, then turned back to watch as two guards were lifting Mulder's body from the ground.

"NO! YOU LET HIM GO! YOU LET HIM GO!"

She twisted out of their hold and grabbed a hand gun from the holster of one of the guards escorting her.

All guns trained on her her.

"Sub-Commander Scully! Put down the weapon, or we will be forced to fire. It does not have to end this way."

"But it does!" Scully cried. "It does. Not a whimper, but a bang," she said, then aimed at the Bounty Hunter.

Two dozen rifles went off all at once.

Cedar Sinai Hospital

Los Angeles, CA

4:35 am

She awoke gasping for air. Instantly someone was at her side. She opened her eyes and saw the face of Margaret

Scully, tears spilling from her beautiful eyes.

"Welcome back, baby girl," she said.

"Mom? You're here. You're alive. Where -"

"You're in the hospital. You're still in Los Angeles. I took the first flight I could get as soon as Fox called me."

"Mulder. Mulder? Where is he?"

"Right here."

Mulder appeared behind her mother. He was wearing a hospital gown and robe, and his face was pale and drawn.

He moved slowly, winced a bit when he attempted to sit on the bed, thought better of it and remained standing.

"You're alive. Thank God. What happened?"

"You don't remember?" he asked. "We were ambushed. Our so-called snitch snitched on us. They were waiting for us."

"Right," she said, remembering. "I was shot." She reached up to touch the thick gauze bandage wrapped around her head. "How bad?"

"The bullet grazed your temple, but the fall you took was worse. I thought..."

"What about you, Mulder, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Bullet in the side, tore out a chunk of meat, but missed anything vital. Good thing our suspect was a rotten marksman."

"Maybe. Where's my uniform?

"Your uniform?"

Scully looked confused for a second. "Oh, wait," she said, covering her face with her hands and taking in a deep

breath. "I had the most incredible dream."

"Yeah? Was I in it?" Mulder asked.

"I don't remember. It wasn't so much a dream as a…"

"What?"

"Like walking between here and the afterlife. It sounds foolish, I know, but I can't think of any other way to

describe it."

"Sounds like an X-File."

"I'm sure it's not."

"That's enough, you two," Margaret Scully interjected. She pushed Mulder aside, shooing him out of the room. "You can tell him all about it later, Dana. You need your rest, and so does he." She turned to Mulder. "Back to your room before the doctor finds out you're AWOL."

"I appreciate your concern, Mrs. Scully, but -"

"Fox, go."

"I better go," Mulder said, with a smile. "I'll see you later. And don't ever scare me like that again."

Scully reached out for Mulder's hand. He leaned in and took hold. Scully's grip was tight, almost desperate.

"You sure you're okay?" she asked.

Mulder nodded. She finally let go.

Holding his side, Mulder opened the door, checked the hall for clearance from doctors and evil nurses, then ambled away.

Mrs. Scully took her daughter's hand, careful not to hit the IV needle and tubes, and kissed it gently. "Fox was right. You gave us quite a scare."

"Sorry. I'll be fine, Mom. Mulder's going to be okay?"

"His doctor says he can go home day after tomorrow."

"Good."

"What did you dream about?"

"What?"

"You said you had a strange dream."

"Oh. I don't-" She blinked, and sighed. "I don't remember now. You know me. I never remember my

dreams for long."

"You just rest, then, baby girl. I'm right here if you need me."

"Thanks mom. I'm glad you're here."

"Me to."

Scully closed her eyes and slept without dreaming.

THE END

Thanks for your kind attention. Hope you dug it. I wrote this a few years ago, and found it recently. Miss the X-Files so much. If you enjoyed it at all, please review and share your thoughts. 'Night.


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